Epilogue
FINN
7 Years later
I’m back at the table in the pub where everything started. The big round table at the back, with a clear view of the bar. And there’s great craic, no question.
“Daddy, it’s your go!” our eldest daughter, Aisling tells me.
I’m sitting with the kids playing a fierce game of Monopoly, and watching my wife like the stalker I am at heart.
“Sorry, Aisling.” I refocus on the board. I’m the top hat, and I’m in jail. As per usual.
“You’re distracted,” our middle daughter, Fia, points out.
“I’m paying attention now.” But it’s a lie. My gaze slides up to where Millie is on the phone at bar.
Our toddler Lana is sitting on the other side of the table, colouring in something pink. She loves pink. And our baby boy, Cillian, is asleep in a wrap thing that straps him to my chest.
Sunday mornings used to be a no-go for me. When I was young, because I’d be in bits from drinking too much on Saturday night, and probably avoiding whoever I’d slept with. Then when I stopped those shite habits, I hated them for the emptiness of having no one around to distract me from the hollowness inside me.
They’re my favourite now, because there’s no business to be attended to, no school, no London Mafia Syndicate, and I can spend time with my family. No distractions.
Except when my wife has been called by her friend from the London Mafia Smut Club for an emergency chat about the new book that released two days ago, and her friend has to talk spoilers with someone. Right now, because she stayed up all night reading.
Millie said no, but I told her we could play our old game while she chatted, and I played with the kids.
“Daddyyy!” Aisling’s complaint is echoed by Fia this time.
I grin. “Alright. Better pay and get out of jail. Even a bad man can’t stay locked up forever.”
I hand over the notes to Fia, who is acting as the bank, and Aisling narrows her eyes. “I thought you said you didn’t have enough money to buy your way out?”
“Are you accusing me of lying?” I reply.
She pouts. “Yes.”
I wink at her, then slide my gaze over to Millie. “Sometimes, imprisoned is the best place to be.”